


When a Bad String of Luck Suddenly Turns Good

by pinkys_creature_feature



Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: Bottom!Eames, Eames stupid cupid exchange, Fluff, Glasses!Arthur, Library Sex, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-14
Updated: 2017-02-14
Packaged: 2018-09-24 06:08:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,971
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9706454
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pinkys_creature_feature/pseuds/pinkys_creature_feature
Summary: Eames is hiding after a job gone bad. Last person he expects to see is Arthur... and is he wearing glasses?!





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [BakerStMel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BakerStMel/gifts).



> Thanks so much to my wonder betas! Iamanonniemouse and livethelife6437. I couldn’t have done this without you guys.
> 
> My prompt was: Glasses.

 

     The job went badly. Well saying it went badly was putting it mildly. Eames had barely escaped with his life, and the burning in his side a constant reminder of that fact. 

     He just hoped his hasty stitch job wouldn’t end up giving him a bloody infection. He also tried not to think of the state of the dive bar he had broken into after hours, because he really didn’t want to know where the alcohol he poured over the bullet wound had been. And to cap things off, it seemed he had found himself quite the persistent tail.

It was almost a week before he was able to sneak across the Canadian border and find himself in a stolen car, searching the woods on Bainbridge Island for a hidden trail to the safe house one of his most trusted allies had directed him to. But paranoia still plagued him. 

Finally, Eames saw the stones that markers. His beat-up Jetta labored up the grassy trail, thankfully, the car made it up the trek. He hid it in the woods out back. He would ditch it later when he went into town for supplies. 

Eames swept the outside of the weathered cabin before finding the hidden key and letting himself inside. There was a fireplace in the living area and a threadbare couch and bed pushed in the corner. The “kitchen” wasn’t much more than a sink and stove, and the bathroom was tucked away next to the pantry. It wasn’t much, but it would work. 

Before the evening chill set in, Eames got the fireplace going and stashed the few clothes he had brought with him. He checked his wound and cleaned it before settling in to rest. The bed wasn’t half bad really, a bit dusty is all. 

Eames stared up at the ceiling trying to will himself to sleep as his mind drifted.

_      Arthur must be worried sick _ , hi thought, then rolled over to his side and adjusting his pillow forcefully. He didn’t owe anything to his occasional love and constant adversary. Whatever thing they had between them didn't extend to courtesy yes-I'm-alive-don't-worry calls.

     Besides, even if he wanted to send word, Eames wouldn't be able to leave the cabin for weeks.

     A week went by. Eames started getting creative with the canned goods in the pantry. It ended with a small to medium fire. He missed Arthur. 

 

     Week two. Eames broke down and set a few rabbit traps for fresh meat. He caught one but couldn’t bring himself to kill it. Maybe spam wasn’t so bad if you just add things to it. He wondered if Arthur was thinking about him.

     By week three, Eames' rakish stubble had grown into a full-grown beard, and he was bored out of his mind. Seclusion didn't suit him; he needed human contact. Maybe he would swing by a bar when he went into town to contact Arthur, find someone to spend a few hours with. His hand was a poor companion lately, and there was the possibility Arthur would kick him in the balls next time he saw him.

     His calendar told him it was Tuesday. That seemed like a decent day to venture into town. He dressed in a red flannel shirt and jeans, hoping the undershirt would help fight off the lingering chill in the air. 

     After Eames locked up, he put on a ball cap and aviators and uncovered the car. 

     It seemed like a much shorter drive to get to the small town than it was to get out of it. The town was nestled on an island in the Puget Sound and it wasn’t unusual to have strangers come and go. Eames dumped the car where it wouldn’t be found for a while, unless someone wanted to swim for it. He jacked another from a long term parking lot and switched the tags with another vehicle, all before noon. Arthur would have been proud. 

     Arthur. Eames hated to admit it, but he missed the button-down prick more each day. He hadn’t seen Arthur in four months and the absence sent an ache through his gut. He needed to find a way to send him a message. Public wifi was out of the question--anyone looking for him would expect him to show up at a Starbucks or something--and he didn't have a phone or computer, so he put on his best American accent and asked for directions to the library. 

     Eames found the small building, nestled in a small residential neighborhood, and parked his newly-stolen car in the back.  As he opened the door, he was met with the smell of old books that reminded him of his childhood. The library was small and warm. It seemed to be a converted house. The dining room was now an office. Out front was a small, unmanned desk with what Eames assumed was a staff computer.

     Another computer was set up in front of the stacks. Eames didn't see any staff around, so he slid into the seat and logged onto an email account that only a select few people knew about. He pulled up a draft and wrote a brief coded message. Then he closed the draft without sending it.

     Arthur checked this email regularly. He would know what the code meant. 

     Eames logged out and leaned back in the seat. He needed a phone, but he doubted there was even service at the cabin. Something moved in the stacks, startling Eames briefly. He shook his head. It was just an employee re-shelving books. An assassin wouldn't be waiting for him in a small town library. 

     The figure moved through the quiet stacks. As they bent to place a book on a lower shelf, Eames caught a lovely view of their backside. The man had amazing taste in jeans; the dark denim fit his slim hips perfectly. And it didn't look like Liberace had decorated them.

     Eames watched the man appreciatively. Maybe he didn't need to find a bar after all.

     As the figure moved away, Eames stood, idly picking up books as he followed him. As the figure moved away Eames stood, idly picking up books as he followed him. Eames sighed, disappointed, and looked at the books in his hands.  _ A History of French Artists, A Stitch in Time _ , and a southern cooking cookbook.  Eames shrugged. At least he'd have something to read. 

     Eames thrummed his fingers against the books and started back towards the front of the library.

     He stopped short as he spotted his mystery man stooped in the back of the second-to-last-stack. There was something about the slope of the man's shoulders...

     Eames cleared his throat. The man started and turned around.. 

     “Arthur?” Eames gasped. 

     Glasses. Arthur was wearing  _ glasses _ . He looked amazing.

     His hair was shorter, and he was wearing a deep blue button-down that made his skin glow.

     Eames smiled. He wondered how the shirt would look on the floor 

     Arthur stood shocked, staring at Eames, wearing  _ glasses _ . Thin silver frames rested on Arthur’s nose, tasteful and sleek, like they had been made just for him. Knowing Arthur, they probably were. 

     "Eames?" Arthur hissed. "What the hell are you doing here? I thought you were dead!" He stepped closer, face darkening. "How did you find me? Are you stalking me?" 

     Eames held out his hands. "Arthur, I swear, you're the last person I was expecting to see. I came here to send you a message that I'm alive." He frowned. "And if I was going to stalk you, I wouldn't get caught."

     Arthur crossed his arms, eyes narrowed.

     "What are you doing here, Arthur?" Eames asked.

     "I work here.” 

     “For a job? Did Cobb put you up to this? What are you researching, the latest copies of Cosmo? Does Cobb need to find 10 ways to satisfy his man?".

  
  


     Arthur flushed. "No, Eames," he gritted out. "I work here. This is my home. You know, the place you go to when you're not working?" He scoffed. 

     Eames flinched, and Arthur visibly backed down. "I'd appreciate it if you didn't follow me here," he whispered harshly. "I have family here. They don't need to know what I really do for a living."

     Eames nodded. "So," he said into the quiet, "you're a librarian? Really? And glasses? Is there anything else I don't know about you?"

     Arthur was tense. Eames could tell he was still angry and even though he enjoyed prodding the other man, this was crossing the line. Eames sat his books on a nearby shelf and raised his hands in supplication. “Arthur, believe me. I had no idea that you were here. I got the directions to a safe house from Bellini. Believe me, I had no intentions on invading your privacy.” 

     Arthur was silent for a moment, studying Eames warily. “I was worried about you.” Arthur sighed and seemed to relax a little finally giving Eames a once over.“You look like a lumberjack, you know that? And you lost weight too.” 

     Eames grinned and slipped into his American accent. “Well I have to fit in with the locals, now don’t I? And getting shot in the side and surviving on canned soup and spam is a hell of a diet.” 

     “You were shot? What the hell Eames.. Are you ok? Did it heal correctly?” Arthur’s anger flared again making Eames wish he had kept his mouth shut. “I told you not to take that job. Evans is a hack and has way too many bodies behind him.” 

     “Well the pay was good. If you must know, I had plan of screwing Evans over. He just was such a moron I never got a chance.” Arthur continued to wait expectantly for Eames to say more. “The bullet wound is fine. Clean through in the meat of the side. I took my stitches out weeks ago.” With a huff Eames lifted his shirt to show Arthur the small red marks left behind.

     Arthur chuckled darkly and put his hands on his hips as Eames righted his shirt. In a flash Arthur was shoving Eames against the shelf, knocking several books down around them. Eames gasped as Arthur pressed against him, his lips a hair’s breadth away; Eames could see himself reflected in Arthur’s glasses. And then Arthur’s lips were on his. Rough and demanding. 

     Eames moaned.  The shelves dig into his back, but he didn’t want to complain. He missed Arthur more than he realised and he was warm against him. Eames returned the kiss with as much fervor as he could, his fingers wrapped around Arthur’s as they clutched his shirt. 

     Arthur broke the kiss and pulled Eames by the shirt deeper into the stacks, eventually pushing him against the back wall. When Eames moved to grab Arthur’s hips, his hands were pinned to the wall above his head. Eames could have broken loose if he wanted to, but this was the most exciting thing to happen to him in months. Yes, it was more exciting than getting shot and going on the run. 

     Arthur pressed against Eames. He brushed his lips against Eames', surprisingly gentle. Eames could feel the tension thrumming under his skin 

     Eames whined softly trying to chase Arthur’s lips, seeking more. He was growing hard in his jeans, the scent of Arthur and old books making his head swim. Arthur gripped both of Eames’ wrists in one hand and brushed his fingers over the swell of Eames’s jeans.  

     Arthur smirked and worried his own bottom lip. “Well Mr. Eames. What should I do with you now?” 

     “I have some ideas if you want them,” Eames suggested. Just as Arthur gave his dick a firm squeeze, the front door chimed. 

     Arthur huffed out a frustrated sigh and released Eames’ wrists. “Go to the office. I’ll be there shortly.” The bite in Arthur’s voice made Eames almost feel sorry for the poor soul that had interrupted them. Arthur adjusted his shirt and pushed his glasses up his nose before walking away. 

     The asshole looked cool as a cucumber and it was infuriating. Eames took a moment to catch his breath and will his dick to behave for a moment. He scratched his beard and listened to Arthur not-to-politely running someone out of the library. 

     About the time Eames had gathered his wits and pushed himself from the wall Arthur reappeared, jaw set. “Office. Now.”  Who was Eames to refuse such a nice request? 

     Arthur was silent as he lead Eames to the small room behind the front desk and shoved him in the door. “We closed early today. The front door is locked,” he muttered. In a flurry of motion Arthur swept everything off the wood surface. Papers went flying and office supplies clattered to the floor. Eames needed piss Arthur off more often, because this was hot as hell. 

     Then Arthur was kissing him again, biting his lip as he pushed the flannel off Eames’ shoulders. Before long Eames’s undershirt and Arthur’s button down joined it. Eames was right, that shirt looked amazing on the floor but not as amazing as Arthur. He must have been working out because he was all compact muscle and pale skin.

      Arthur’s hands were everywhere, raking through Eames’ chest hair, gripping his ass through his jeans before moving them to where Eames really wanted them. Eames gave and good as he got, shoving his hands into the pockets of those perfect jeans and squeezing the firm globes beneath them, grinding their erections together. 

     Arthur growled and backed Eames up to the desk and realization settled over Eames that made his cock twitch. Arthur was going to fuck him. It was a first for their relationship or whatever you want to call it. Eames had bottomed before with other partners but historically Arthur always craved the giving up all the control to Eames. This Arthur was powerful and demanding and Eames was more than willing to go along with it. 

     “Are you going to fuck me, darling?” Eames teased in a breathy voice. Arthur’s gaze leveled on him like a laser and Eames was burning. 

     “Do you want me to?” Arthur’s voice was deceptively calm, his grip on Eames’ waist was nearly bruising. His glasses were slightly askew which Eames found oddly endearing. 

     “Bloody hell, of course I do.” Eames sat on the desk, spreading his legs and pulling Arthur close by the waist of his jeans. Arthur accepted the invitation and ground his hips against Eames’ both of their cocks straining against their pants. 

     Their kisses quickly became heated again, gasping against each other’s lips as their hips moved together. Arthur wrapped an arm around Eames’ waist and leaned into him to push Eames’ back on the desk. The cool surface made Eames’ breath catch and his back arched, pressing their chests together. 

     “Please tell me you have supplies.” Eames panted, trying to work the buttons on Arthur’s jeans. Eames secretly cursed button flys and swore he would never wear them again and he would hunt down and burn every pair Arthur owned.

     Arthur chuckled and reached past Eames and into a drawer. “I have lube but no condoms. You haven’t done anything questionable since the last time have you?” 

     “You have lube? At work?” Eames wasn’t sure what to think. That was totally something he would do but Arthur?

     “It gets boring sometimes.” Was Arthur’s answer. “So are you clean?” 

     “I’m clean.” Eames muttered. He sank his teeth into Arthur's shoulder, listening to him hiss. “Let me prepare myself,” Eames asked sweetly kissing the reddened skin.

     Arthur raised himself up and adjusted his glasses, he hesitated a moment before stepping back and helping strip Eames out of his jeans and underwear. Eames could imagine the sight he was, flushed and sweating, spread on the desk with his legs open and his cock straining against his stomach. Arthur squeezed his own cock through his jeans as he looked him over. 

     It took Arthur a moment to realize he was still holding the lube and he quickly placed it in Eames’ waiting hand. Eames chuckled as he shifted around to get himself in the best possible position. He spread a generous amount of lube on his fingers before lifting his hips from the desk. He kept his eyes on Arthur as slowly lowered himself on his own fingers. It wasn’t the most comfortable way to open himself but the slack jawed look on Arthur’s face was worth it. 

     Eames rolled his hips, working two fingers deeper inside himself. He couldn’t help but put on a show so he put the bottle of lube to the side and gave his cock a few slow pulls before running his hand over his stomach to tease his nipples. He could be a real tart when he wanted to be. 

     Eames watched as Arthur pulled his own cock free, pumping it slowly, his shoulder still tense and his eyes still locked on Eames. He was still angry and Eames loved it. Eames bit his lip and grinned. He must be enjoying the show. Eames added another finger and he hissed through the burn. Arthur moved quickly to kick off his jeans and moved back between Eames’ legs. He ran his fingers through the excess lube and around Eames’ stretched hole, easing just the tip inside along Eames’ fingers. It was almost too much, but not enough. He needed Arthur deep inside him. 

     Eames slowly pulled his fingers out and spread more lube on his hand. He pulled Arthur closer and took his cock in hand; it twitched and leaked from the tip as Eames got him ready. Arthur took back control and lined himself up before slowly starting to push inside. 

     Eames cried out; it had been a while since he bottomed and Arthur wasn’t exactly small. He clung to Arthur’s shoulders, his nails nearly drawing blood. It seemed like forever before Arthur bottomed out. 

     Arthur was trembling with the effort to hold still while Eames waited for the burn to fade. He forgot how good it felt to be stretched open and filled by someone else and this was  _ Arthur _ . Eames’ cock twitched, leaving a trail of precome in the corse hair below his belly button. 

     Arthur began to roll his hips, slowly sliding further out and back in with each stroke. Eames locked his heels around Arthur’s waist and gripped the edge of the desk, beginning to move with him. 

     Arthur cursed under his breath as his movements became rougher. “I told you not to take that job,” he panted. “You worried me sick. I was ready to put a hit out on someone.” 

     Eames chuckled, grabbing Arthur by the hair and dragging him into a kiss. “If this is the reaction I get, I will disappear more often.” 

   


     Arthur gave a particularly vicious thrust that took Eames’ breath away and pushed him across the desk, causing Arthur to pull him back down on his cock. The angle made Eames’ toes curl as he snaked a hand between them to stroke himself.  Arthur leaned up to watch, his fingers working Eames’ nipples mercilessly. 

     Eames muttered. He sank his teeth into Arthur's shoulder, listening to him hiss. “Come on darling.” Eames urged bearing down on Arthur’s cock. 

     “But you haven’t..” Arthur seemed nearly beyond words. 

     “You can suck me off after and let me come on that pretty face.” Eames’ voice was gravelly and heavy with lust. 

     Arthur stuttered a breath and dropped to his elbows, thrusting in earnest. Eames squeezed the base of his cock, staving off his orgasm as Arthur’s hips stuttered and he choked out a ragged cry.  Eames bit his lip and threw his head back as Arthur buried himself deep inside. He could feel the twitch of Arthur’s dick as he came and was shaking with the need to come as well. 

     All the tension in Arthur seemed to release all at once as he collapsed against Eames. Eames tried to give him a few minutes to collect himself but was soon whimpering and rubbing his leaking cock against Arthur’s stomach. 

     Arthur began to slide down Eames’ body and Eames thought the other man was going to fall. Arthur dropped to his knees and took Eames in his mouth. There was no buildup, no teasing, Arthur went straight to work, sucking Eames down as far as he could. 

     Eames planted his feet on the desk and began thrusting into Arthur’s hot, wet, mouth. Eames was babbling and he didn’t care. A realization struck him as  He felt himself hurtling towards the finish line. He loved Arthur. He in fact hadn’t taken any other lovers in over a year. The realization was the final straw and he grabbed a handful of Arthur’s hair, pulling him off his dick with a pop. He stroked his cock once before the first rope of come shot across Arthur’s nose and dripped from one of his lenses. Eames cried out, his whole body shaking, and he painted Arthur’s panting face and glasses. 

     Eames fell back onto the desk, completely spent, his head reeling as he tried to process his feelings. Arthur’s head rested on his thigh as he stroked his fingers through Arthur’s hair. They sat there silent for a few moments but it ended all too quickly when Arthur moved to clean his face off. Eames for his part was too far gone to care about the come cooling between his thighs. 

     Something seemed off though. Arthur’s posture was all wrong as he found a cleaning cloth for his glasses. When he came near the desk Eames stopped him with a hand around his wrist. 

     “What’s wrong Arthur?” 

     “Did you mean that?” Arthur asked, not turning completely towards him his eyes guarded.

     “Mean what?” Eames asked. He hoped he hadn’t said anything awful to Arthur when he was out of his mind. 

     “You said you loved me. Is it true?” Arthur looked more vulnerable that Eames had ever seen him. Had he really said that? Eames took a moment to gather his thoughts.. 

     “Yes Arthur. It’s true.” Eames sat up on the desk and pulled Arthur in for a kiss. Arthur hesitated but slowly started to kiss him back. “I don’t let just anyone fuck me,” Eames teased, winking as Arthur gave him a shove. 

     They didn’t talk much as they both cleaned up and got dressed. Arthur cleaned up the office as best he could and took Eames’ offer to come back to the cabin. 

     On the ride out of town Arthur studied him from the passenger seat, take out Chinese on his lap. “So what is up with the beard anyways?” 

     “I couldn’t find any razors.” Eames answered. Arthur smiled when Eames squeezed his thigh. 

     -One hour later -

     “Eames?” Arthur called from the small bathroom. 

     “Yes dear?” Eames mused as he stoked a small fire in the fireplace the nights were just cold enough to enjoy a fire.

     Eames heard footsteps approach and turned to see Arthur with a pack of razors in hand. “You are such a liar,” he said with a smile. “But that’s ok. I love you anyways.” 

     Eames beamed. He didn’t expect Arthur to say it back, he wasn’t really sure if he felt the same but he chuckled and pulled Arthur down for a kiss. “Does this mean I can run off and do stupid dangerous things and get you to fuck me like that regularly?”

     “I don’t know. Do I get to scream at you for hours until you leave me fucked out on the floor?” Arthur asked in a dead serious voice.

     Eames smiled against Arthur’s throat. He never thought this was how this job would end but his string of bad luck seemed to have turned good. “It’s a deal darling.” 


End file.
